She felt a wall grow around her heart and as she met his gaze, she allowed it to solidify. The pain on his face faded, and Frederick only nodded.
“As you wish, Duchess.” His voice was soft, light but empty of its usual laughter.
She tried to tell herself that it was better this way. She needed to be careful.I want him to protect me.She could not give into that urge. Would keeping her distance be enough? Would he even let her do it? That would be her usual choice, but thus far aloofness and distance appeared to have little effect on the Duke’s effusive warmth.
I need to force him to keep his distance. Need to repel him. At least, if this is to work.She needed to be as irritating as possible; that would keep her safe.
ChapterEight
“And that is another game to me.” Benedict Tolliver, Duke of Haviliard grinned at him as Frederick slumped over his cue. “Honestly, Caverton, I would almost feel bad taking your money if you were not so rich.”
“I will be considerably less rich by the end of this.” Frederick attempted to smile, but it felt more like a grimace.
They were playing a game of billiards at the gentleman’s club. It was the second day of his honeymoon, and he had decided to get out of the castle, finding it impossible to relax.
Ever since his outburst at their wedding ball, there had been an iciness between his new wife and him. He felt a swirl of anger and shame threaten to overwhelm him. Any time they bumped into each other, she seemed determined to walk the other way.
“Felton? It is not like you to look so dour.” Benedict gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Surely married life cannot already have gotten to you.”
Frederick let out a bark of laughter, but it sounded forced. “Oh, you know me, Tolly, nothing gets me down.”
“And yet I have never seen you play such a terrible game of billiards. You have lost nearly five games in a row and usually I cannot even beat you once!” Benedict gestured at the scoreboard for emphasis.
Frederick shrugged, running a hand through his hair. “Perhaps I am simply trying to lull you into a false sense of security. After all, you will no doubt bet more if you think you have a chance of winning.”
“If you were another man, I might believe it, but you are not that sort of person.” Benedict gave him a frank look. “Are you going to tell me what is bothering you or will I have to thump it out of you?”
Frederick shook his head. He could not tell him the truth. Not about the way he had lost his temper. He could still see how her eyes had widened, the way she had jerked away from him as though burned.Light and easy, damn it. That is what I have to be.
“Is it trouble with your new wife? I thought the two of you had an arrangement?” Benedict asked.
“We did. I mean we do.” Frederick let out a frustrated sigh and tugged on his hair in frustration. “It does not matter. It’s silly.”
“Come one, tell uncle Haviliard all about your troubles, young Felton.” Benedict leaned against the table and tapped his lap, grinning at Frederick.
He shook his head and pointed his cue at his friend. “You are a year younger than me.”
“It is eleven months actually.” Benedict stood and began setting up another game of billiards. “Now, tell me what is going on.”
“I am just tired of it all. Tired of feeling like everything I do is somehow wrong.” He missed an easy shot and grimaced at the ball. “I thought her glaring at me was bad, but whatever this is, it is worse!”
He moved to the other side of the table, pacing while he waited for Benedict to take his shot. “Whenever she sees me, she turns around and leaves. If I happen to enter a room that she is in, she is gone a moment later. If I talk to her, she snaps at me. If I say nothing, she glowers. If I ask the kitchens to prepare something for dinner, she arranges for them to make something else”
“It sounds like there is no winning.” Benedict sunk one of the nearby balls. “At least for you.”
“That is what it feels like. It is not as though I need her to like me –” Frederick said but Benedict cut him off with a laugh “- oh, pull the other one.”
“I am serious!” Frederick flushed.
“Felton, your need to be liked is practically pathological. You go out of your way to make people think well of you. You have done as long as I have known you.” Benedict gestured for Frederick to take his own shot. “And I have known you a rather long time.”
Frederick let out a breath of air and leaned against his cue, massaging his temples with his free hand. “I do not need to be liked.”
“And I am the King of England.” Benedict rolled his eyes.
“I mean, I knew she was not particularly fond of me, after all that was why I asked her to marry me!” He exclaimed, cursing as he missed yet another easy shot.
Andrea’s face swam into his mind, and he pushed it away. His mood was already getting dangerously dark, and he could not allow it to continue this way.
